


Pressure Release

by embroiderama



Series: Pressure [3]
Category: White Collar RPF
Genre: Acting, Angst, Comfort Food, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Exhaustion, Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 22:19:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embroiderama/pseuds/embroiderama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Filming <i>The Normal Heart</i> is complex and difficult for Matt in multiple ways, and the last step is a doozy. He needs Tim to help him get through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pressure Release

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the [White Collar RPF Meme](http://embroiderama.livejournal.com/570173.html) for [](http://rabidchild.livejournal.com/profile)[**rabidchild**](http://rabidchild.livejournal.com/)’s prompt, though it expanded beyond that. It’s also a sequel to [Pressure Cooker](http://embroiderama.livejournal.com/571168.html), and this will probably make more sense in the context of that one.
> 
> Warnings: Discussion of weight loss related issues and mentions of homophobia

Matt stretched out in Tim's bed and sighed. It still surprised him sometimes, how comfortable Tim's bed was, how decadent. Tim wasn't a man for many luxuries; the furnishings in his New York apartment were relatively spare and basic with the exception of a huge TV in the living room and a king size bed with an amazing mattress, incredibly soft sheets, endless pillows. Tim had a _really nice bed_ , and Matt appreciated that, especially when he didn't feel like doing much more than burrowing into that warm-cool plushness. Especially when Tim's bed generally came with a Tim in it.

The summer had been hard--not unpleasant, not for the most part, but so much work. He didn't know how he would have ever done it differently, though. He had a contract with _White Collar_ , and aside from that he believed in the show. _White Collar_ paid a lot of people's bills, and he never let himself forget that. But _The Normal Heart_ was a once-in-a-lifetime job, and it was important. It was historic and current at the same time, and it was Matt's job to drive the whole point of the story into the hearts of the American public. He couldn't forget that either.

Matt had read the play for the first time back in drama school, back in the nineties, and it had made an impact on him then. It had stayed with him, somewhere in the back of his mind when he thought about maybe doing live theatre again someday, and when Ryan approached him about playing Felix for HBO it had barely felt real, something he never could have imagined when he was 19. When he read the play again--downloaded onto his phone from Amazon, which he hadn't imagined at 19 either--Felix started to become real.

As much as the play had impressed and touched him back then, reading it now that he'd lived and loved and lost so much more was a different experience. Better and worse and terribly real. So yeah, he was willing to put himself through some difficult months in order to convey that reality to millions of other people. As far as Matt was concerned, if he weren't willing to do that he wouldn't deserve the part. Not even slightly. It was a challenge and an honor, and Matt was so very glad it was almost over.

Things had gotten out of control for a while in the middle of the summer, and that crash and burn had been humiliating, but then things had improved and time went on. It was frustrating when Simon and Tim seemed to think that Matt was getting off on the whole diet thing because he really wasn't. Doing the whole bulk and shred thing for _Magic Mike_ had been one thing; the lifting and dancing had been fun, and if he had to give up most carbs for a while he had still been eating a lot of real food. A lot of food, period.

Cutting everything way down to lose weight for Felix wasn't fun. He did it because it was his job, an important job, and when the whole thing turned out to be more of a delicate balance that he'd realized he started being more careful. And, well, a lot of people were inconvenienced to make things easier on him, but Matt had done his best to get over the burn of that. Simon and Tim and a bunch of other people had made it clear that he didn't have a say in that particular side of things.

And the change had been a relief, even if he wouldn't admit it to anybody other than himself.

Now it was autumn, and the days were growing colder. And Felix was getting ready to die. There hadn't been many scenes for Matt to film in the second half of the movie, but each one was intense, emotionally and physically. Matt had never, save perhaps for right after getting the flu in the middle of a middle school growth spurt, been this skinny, and he definitely wasn't getting off on it. He had no energy, and he was usually either hungry or vaguely nauseated, and autumn in New York felt a lot colder than he remembered it being before. It sucked.

On the other hand, it didn't suck any more than it was supposed to. He was going to the doctor every week, and he was okay. Everything was in balance, and as long as he didn't overexert himself he wouldn't end up in the hospital again. The _White Collar_ team were being really good about working around his _The Normal Heart_ filming schedule so that he didn't usually have to work on both in the same day. But now there was just one more day before Felix would say his final words, and Matt was torn between relief at the prospect of being able to get back to normal and grief at the inevitable fact of Felix's death. The one thing he wasn't torn about was the dread he felt about filming that last scene.

The big scene that he'd filmed with Mark a week ago was the most difficult acting work he'd ever done. He'd been kind of a wreck afterward, emotional and so bone-tired that shrugging off Felix hadn't been easy. Mark had ridden home with him that day and hung out on Matt's couch, the two of them halfway spaced out, until Tim got there. It had taken a lot of time--FaceTime with Simon and the boys, a long, hot bath, and hours just resting in bed with Tim to feel something like himself again.

The last scene would be less physically demanding, thank God, but the emotional toll would be high. He wouldn't want to admit it to anybody, but he was a little bit scared. He'd done the whole death scene thing before, and that last day on _Guiding Light_ had been hard as hell but that had been a soap opera and this was very much not. Back then, Matt went home and called his mom then went out and got a little bit drunk and a whole lot screwed. He was certain that wouldn't work this time.

Matt heard the front door to Tim's apartment open and close, and then Tim walked into the bedroom fresh from his workout, looking sweaty and healthy and strong. Matt put down the magazine he was pretending to read and sat up from the mountain of pillows he was leaning on.

"Come here."

Tim raised one eyebrow. "I'm pretty gross."

"I don't have a problem with that."

Tim shook his head but he smiled and crawled onto the bed. His lips were salty, and he felt warm and solid. The kind of person you could hold onto in a storm.

"Are you busy tomorrow afternoon?"

"No. I have a media thing in the morning, but it'll be over before lunch. Why?"

Matt bit his lip, and he didn't know why he was nervous when Tim wasn't going to tell him no unless he had a seriously good reason. "Will you come to the _Normal Heart_ set with me? For the last day?"

Tim's face softened. "Of course I will, if you want me to."

"It's going to be a pretty bad day, I think."

"Yeah, probably," Tim agreed, and Matt loved him for that--no bullshit reassurances. "But I'll be there. What's your call time?"

"Noon, but filming won't start until one or so."

"Okay. Does it work if I meet you there? By one at the latest."

"That's perfect. I hate to ask, I just--"

"You don't have to explain to me. I get it."

"Thank you," Matt said, meaning it more than anything.

Tim looked like he was going to blow it off, but then he nodded. "You're welcome. Now, I'm starting to feel pretty gross so I'm hitting the shower. You want one of your shakes?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Tim had stopped making fun of Matt's nutritional shakes a while ago. Yeah, they didn't look great, but they covered all the bases and kept him as relatively healthy and functional as possible. After all, the makeup department could only do so much to make him look thinner but they could sure as hell make him look anemic. His last blood tests just a few days ago had been borderline but okay, and he was almost done. One more day, and he could--well, realistically he could switch to some high-calorie shakes that probably tasted a lot better, but there would be a lot more real food too. Matt's stomach rumbled at the thought of real food, but he took the shake Tim handed him and drank it down. Fuel to the fire.

The rest of the day was quiet. Matt read and watched TV and did a little bit of yoga, but he couldn't stop thinking about Felix. Felix's story felt far too familiar in some ways, and Matt could so easily imagine that life being his if he'd been born 25 or 30 years earlier. Things weren't perfect, maybe, but Matt looked at his life and saw that he had his family with Simon and the boys and he had his parents and siblings still in his life. He had a career where he was out to literally anybody who wanted to know. He had his _White Collar_ family; he had Tim. He was so fucking lucky that he wanted to cry.

Tim stayed close, reading scripts and talking to his own family and watching TV, but at the same time Matt felt the space Tim was giving him, the room to process what was going to happen the next day. Eventually they went to bed, and under the soft, soft covers on that big, comfortable bed Matt let Tim pull him close until they were nestled together, almost no space between them. Right then, that comfort was better than any sex.

In the morning, Matt slept in while Tim went off to his interview or whatever, but Matt was ready when the car came to pick him up. The make-up department did their job, transforming him from skinny and tired to gaunt and dying. It was an unsettling thing to see in the mirror, but it helped him slip deeper into Felix. It would've been devastating for him, too, to look in the mirror and see that. When the various artists and stylists were done with him, Matt sat and ran lines in his head, waiting for somebody to tell him it was time to start filming.

"Hey."

Matt looked around at the soft, familiar voice behind him and caught the look of horror that flashed across Tim's face. "Hey. Pretty bad, I know."

Tim nodded. "I know you're in your zone so I'll get out of your way, but I just wanted you to know I'm here. I'll be over there." Tim pointed to a group of chairs back behind the camera set-up.

"Thank you," Matt said. He watched Tim walk away then closed his eyes to get centered. Soon enough, it was time to go. The director had them filming that day's shots in order, and the first half of the scene wasn't terrible. They did a few takes to get the timing right, and it was tense but they got it done.

Matt stayed where he was as they changed camera angles, and Mark hung out next to him. They didn't talk, but it felt right, as much as any of it felt right. As they got ready to film the scene that would be Matt's last, he felt himself sinking deep down into the character and yet somehow floating outside of his body, watching everything happen. He was glad that his lines were few and simple.

Everybody agreed to try for as few takes as possible. Matt would do it twenty times if he had to, to get it right, but he didn't want to be in this half-alive place for that long. Something went wrong with a light on the first take, and somebody fumbled a line on the second. Somebody else made a mistake on the third take, and all Matt could think of was Felix, stuck in limbo.

Finally they all took a deep breath, and Matt put everything he had into making the scene translate to the camera. Felix died and everything went quiet. Matt heard somebody say, "We got it. We're good," and he turned over on his side, hiding his face from the hottest lights, and he wasn't sure if the tears burning his eyes were still Felix's.

There was a hand on his arm. Somebody, he thought it was Mark, said, "You did it. It's over," but Matt didn't know what to say.

The next person to touch him put a hand in his hair, and Matt knew that touch. "Tim," he whispered, keeping his arm over his closed eyes.

"Yeah," Tim murmured. "You want to get out of here?" Matt nodded. "You want to talk?" Matt shook his head. He didn't know what words he could say. "Okay, we can do this. Come on and sit up."

Tim guided Matt to sit up then pulled a thick robe on over Matt's shoulders before he stood up. Matt watched through barely-open, unfocused eyes as Tim led him to the wardrobe area, where he changed into his own clothes. Matt figured the makeup area would be next, but then he heard the crinkle of a package of makeup removal towelettes, and Tim worked gently, wiping the death off of Matt's face.

"Now you're pink instead of gray," Tim said quietly. "I like that a lot better."

They made their way outside and into a car, Tim's hand warm and solid in the middle of Matt's back the whole time.

"My place or yours?" Tim asked, and Matt sighed. He didn’t think he could talk around the heavy nothing in his throat, so he touched Tim’s shoulder. “My place?” Tim asked, confirming.

Matt nodded, and Tim told the driver where to take them. The ride was quiet, though Matt wasn't sure if it was long or short or in-between. Eventually, they were inside Tim's apartment, and Matt headed straight back to the bedroom, the world fuzzy and vague around him. He stepped out of his sneakers then undid his belt and pushed his jeans down without unzipping them. He dropped his jacket on top of the shoes and jeans and climbed under the covers, face-down. He breathed in the familiar smell of the pillow and breathed in time with Tim's hand stroking up and down his back.

Up and down. Up and down. Matt's chest ached, and he thought that if he weren't so exhausted he'd be sobbing but he didn't have that in him. The grief built and burst like bubbles in his chest, and he fell asleep, grateful that he wasn't alone.

Matt was alone in the bedroom when he woke an indeterminate amount of time later, but he could hear Tim moving around, football sounds coming from the TV. He wanted to clean himself up, put on some clothes and go out in search of Tim and food, but something else was important first. He picked up his phone from the bedside table and curled up with it under the covers.

The call had barely had time to go through when Simon answered. “Babe?”

“Hey. I’m okay.”

“Yeah. Ryan called, said you were amazing.” Simon sighed. “I wish I could be there.”

“I miss you, but it’s okay. And it’s over.” The relief of that was almost overwhelming.

“And soon you’ll be done there for the year and back home with us.”

“That sounds really good.” He closed his eyes and thought about it, going home and putting his arms around his partner and his boys because he was alive and he wasn’t Felix.

“You feel okay?”

“Yes, I promise. I’m tired and still up in my head from today, but I’m hungry, and I’m going to go find something soon. I’m at Tim’s.”

“Good, okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Matt’s throat ached suddenly, and he hated being so out of control of his feelings. “So much,” he added, the words half throttled.

“Aw, Babe.”

“Can you just talk about the boys for a minute?” Matt choked out.

“You know I can talk about them forever.” Simon went on about what they were doing in school and pre-school, the art they’d brought home, a birthday party they’d all gone to—nothing big, all of it important, and Matt listened and breathed, and Simon didn’t stop until Matt spoke again.

“Thank you. I’ll talk to you later or tomorrow morning, okay?”

“Sounds good. Love you.”

Matt couldn’t say it again. He nodded and hung up then went to the bathroom and washed his face before pulling on his jeans and a hoodie and meandering out to the living room.

Tim smiled and left the small kitchen area to meet him. “Hey! You have good timing.” He pulled Matt in for a hug, and Matt held on, leaning into the solid strength of Tim’s chest for a long moment before pulling away. “You doing okay?”

Matt nodded. “How do I have good timing?”

“I got my PA to pick up some things and bring them over, and she just came by about fifteen minutes ago.” Tim went back in to the kitchen and came out with a grande Starbucks cup. It looked like a mirage in the desert. “Mocha latte, whole milk, half-caf.”

“Oh man, thank you.” Matt took the drink and smelled it. He had entirely given up Starbucks in the last two weeks; he hadn’t been able to allow the empty calories in the drinks he liked best, and regular coffee didn’t do anything good for his stomach. This, this was perfect. He closed his eyes, took a long, slow sip and felt the sugar and caffeine start to hit his system. “Wow.”

When he opened his eyes Matt saw Tim looking at him with a gentle smirk. “You want a cigarette with that afterglow?”

“Funny.” Matt went over to sit on the couch with his drink, and sipped at it as he tried to figure out what was going on in the game on TV.

Tim followed with a mug of regular coffee. “When you’re ready, there’s actual food, too.”

“Yeah?” Matt set his drink aside. Now that his body was waking up the idea of real food sounded incredibly good. “What are we having?”

“Well, one of the crew guys told me about this place that has really good home-style cooking, and I thought something simple might be good right now so I got a big container of chicken and dumplings.”

It was unexpectedly touching that Tim would be so thoughtful, going out of his way to have just the right things. Matt rode the wave of emotion for a minute then nodded. “That sounds good.”

Tim didn’t react; he’d been in this ocean, too. Matt halfway watched the TV and halfway watched Tim put bowls in the microwave, and by the time the microwave beeped Matt could already smell the food. He smelled chicken and vegetables and the bite of black pepper, and when Tim handed him his bowl it was the kind of chicken and dumplings he liked best. Chewy dumplings were okay, but these were perfect, light and fluffy. They reminded him of helping his mom in the kitchen, sitting on the counter dropping spoonfuls of Bisquick dough into the pan.

He thought about Felix, about how he probably had parents who loved him before he grew up and came out, but he had to shake that off. Matt had a different life, a better life, and he was grateful to the people who had fought to change things. He was grateful he had parents who cared enough to get over it. Soon, after _White Collar_ was done filming for the season, he would have a lot of time at home with the boys, and he thought he thought he would call his mom and get her recipe. They could spend an afternoon making chicken and dumplings, and there would enough room on the kitchen counter for three boys, if they wanted to help.

“Is it okay?” Tim asked tentatively, and Matt realized he’d stopped eating.

“It’s perfect,” he said, his voice rough. “Thank you.”

Tim still looked concerned, and Matt wondered how long he’d been lost in his thoughts. “You don’t feel sick, do you?”

“I feel lucky,” Matt said, and Tim relaxed, nodding. He got it.

Matt finished eating then let his dinner digest while he leaned against Tim on the couch. There were no demands, and with the food in his belly and the atmosphere of warm and comfortable familiar things he started to feel himself settling inside his body, grounding back into his life and his head, closer to the place where everything else was just a story.

Later, he took a hot shower and went back into the bedroom wearing just his robe. He and Tim hadn’t shared more than a few lazy hand jobs in the last two weeks, and Matt put most of it down to his lack of energy. He wasn’t sure how much Tim was put off by the state of his body, but that was too close to Felix-thoughts and Matt pushed it away. He knelt on the bed next to where Tim was propped up reading and just asked; they’d always been up-front with each other when it came to sex.

“How do you feel about a blowjob?”

Tim blinked in surprise. “I feel pretty good about it if you do.” Tim reached out to untie the belt on Matt’s robe, but Matt took his hand and held it to the side.

“I want to do you first.”

“Just let me take care of you.”

Matt shook his head. “I need this part of it too. And I’ll probably be out all night after you finish with me.”

“Okay.” Tim lifted his hips and reached under the covers, then tossed his boxers down next to the bed. “How do you want me?”

“Right there is good.” Matt pulled back the covers and straddled Tim’s legs. He sank down on his haunches, resting his ass on his heels and Tim’s knees, and took Tim’s cock in hand. He moved his fingers along its length, just playing, not really going anywhere, and looked Tim in the eye. “I appreciate the way you’ve been there for me the last few months. I mean, before that too, but especially now. I know I’ve leaned on you a lot.”

“Maybe I like being leaned on by people I care about. I hope that’s not why you want to do this, though.”

“No.” Matt slipped his thumb over a sensitive spot and watched Tim’s face. “I want to feel you and taste you. I want some fucking visceral proof that I’m not what I just pretended to be.” Matt shifted back and bent down then took a deep inhale of the musky man smell, concentrated Tim. “And maybe I like sucking off people I care about.”

Tim laughed and Matt licked his lips and took Tim’s cock into his mouth. He took his time, nothing fancy, enjoying the weight on his tongue, the taste in his mouth. His robe was still on, keeping his back warm, but it had come open in front and he could feel Tim’s heat radiating up at his chest and stomach. Tim’s fingers were in his hair, not grasping to control him, just playing, and he dropped his hand to fist the sheets when Matt felt him start to tremble. Matt worked him faster then, and Tim came with a gasp, his hips shaking under Matt’s hands as Matt swallowed the sharp earthy taste that filled his mouth.

He sat back and caught his breath as he watched Tim come back to himself, his face and chest flushed and sweaty. The sight was satisfying enough that he almost didn’t care about getting off himself. Almost. Tim tilted his head back and sighed contentedly then looked at Matt, his gaze traveling down to Matt’s cock, halfway hard from the rush of giving pleasure.

“My turn,” Tim said. “Trade places?”

“Works for me.” Matt pulled his robe the rest of the way off and tossed it to the foot of the bed then crawled around to lean back against the pile of pillows that were still warm from Tim’s body heat. “I think I want one of those heated mattress pads,” Matt mused, and Tim laughed.

“You have a hedonistic streak, don’t you? I approve.” Tim crawled around to straddle Matt’s legs but he knelt further back, balancing his weight on his knees. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

“However delicate you think I am, I’m really not.”

Tim didn’t respond right away. He put his hands on either side of Matt’s hips and ran his thumbs lightly around the too-sharp bones. “Okay,” Tim said, looking down.

“If you don’t want—“ Matt felt a rush of Felix thoughts. _Ugly._ “You don’t—“

“No!” Tim knelt up, leaning in for a frantic kiss, his hands in Matt’s hair, teeth nipping at Matt’s bottom lip. When he pulled back Tim kept his hands loose at the back of Matt’s head. “No. It’s hard for me not to worry, but you’re beautiful. Even in the death makeup and the hospital gown you were beautiful, and you’re going to break people’s _fucking_ hearts.” Tim sighed and then said quietly, “Even if you were truly sick like that you would be beautiful, but I hope to God you never are.”

Matt read the truth in Tim’s eyes and took in an unsteady breath, startled. “I won’t be. Never like that, at least. But the same goes for you, you know.”

Tim nodded slowly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to derail things here.” He smoothed his hands down from Matt’s neck, over his chest and down to his hips again. He wrapped one hand around Matt’s cock and the arousal that had slipped away started to build again.

Matt sighed and rolled his head, stretching out his neck. “That feels good.”

“Good. Let’s go for better.” Tim moved back, dropping light kisses on the places that felt wrong or ugly, and with each one the knot of tension inside loosened bit by bit. The feeling of Tim’s mouth on his cock was a joy of heat and slick pressure and motion. Matt opened his eyes and watched Tim work, the muscles in his broad back tensing and shifting. Then Tim took hold of Matt’s hips and lifted them a few inches, the tips of his fingers teasing at his ass, the sensitive skin coming to life with a wild flush of sensation, and Matt closed his eyes.

Tim was holding him right at the edge, literally holding him, backing off every time he started to fall. It was fantastic and maddening, and he heard himself whimper. Tim must have taken pity on him because this time when Matt’s body starting shaking Tim stayed with him, right over the edge as he came apart in Tim’s hands.

There was no tension left in his body, no worry that he could grab onto, nothing but delicious lassitude, his whole body thrumming with life even if he didn’t have the energy to move. He was vaguely aware of Tim leaving, but he returned what felt like seconds later and Matt felt a damp washcloth move from his face to his neck to his belly to his cock. Through barely open eyes, Matt watched Tim return from the bathroom and climb back in bed where he rearranged the sheets and covers and pillows. The light went dark, and Matt closed his eyes as he felt Tim move him into a better position for sleeping.

He was too exhausted to help and too content to care. He hoped that the morning was a long way away.


End file.
